Embrasse-moi, Mon Chéri
by It'sNotUnusual
Summary: Spending months separated by an ocean can be fatal for some couples. For others, it means the start of their life together. One shot, complete. Klaine. Rated T for one use of strong language.


_Embrasse Moi, Cher_

**A prompt for Klexting from courtneylindsay3382 (found underneath the story), which worked better as prose. I edited the prompt somewhat, as you'll see. It's just a filler Klaine proposal, really, nothing too mind blowing. Enjoy :) **

Blaine Anderson liked his life. As far as things could have turned out, it was one of the best outcomes. He had a long term boyfriend, with no plans of splitting in the foreseeable future, he had a secure job – teachers are always in demand –, he had a good flat (albeit small) in New York City and he also joint owned with Kurt the sweetest little terrier puppy, Natalie.

There was, perhaps, one thing that Blaine Anderson was not so fond of, and that was Kurt's dilection to use French whenever he was being coy or writing something that he didn't want Blaine to read. It could get annoying, yes, but at the end of the day it was just another quirk of Kurt's that Blaine couldn't help but fall even more in love with. Of course, it didn't help that Kurt was doing a musical in Paris for a few months, so he was speaking French for most of the time.

Blaine looked forward to the extended weekends that the producers let Kurt come home. He'd be up at the crack of dawn and down at the airport, hours before Kurt's flight even turned up on the arrivals noticeboard. He'd be up and down between the noticeboard, seats and airport Starbucks shop, making a mental note to not come this early the next time, although that never happened.

Then, when the noticeboard _finally _flashed with 'landed', he would make his way to the bannister where all the passengers came out, with his sign. Kurt rolled his eyes every time he saw it, although it never changed, before tackling Blaine in a tight hug and pressing soft kisses to his neck. It was never enough.

Kurt was home for the weekend again, his flight having come in on Thursday morning. It was now Saturday afternoon, and, much to Blaine's disappointment, Kurt was scribbling in his stupid black notebook. He was leaving on Sunday evening, and Blaine was very close to acting like a petulant child just to get him to stop.

"What are you writing?" he asked after five more minutes, finally feeling to exasperated to stay quiet.

But Kurt just smiled at him and continued writing, without saying a word. Blaine would push it, but there were much easier ways of getting Kurt to stop, and he didn't really want Kurt mad at him. They only had a few days in each other's company every two months, after all.

* * *

Blaine had completely forgotten about the notebook until after he had waved Kurt off onto his plane for Paris. It was a bitterly cold January evening, and he buried his hands deep into his coat pockets, when his fingers brushed against crumpled paper. Confused, Blaine dug it out, sure that he hadn't had that there when he went out for coffee earlier.

Blaine slowly unfolded the paper, sheltering near the airport's heating, and started to read. It was in Kurt's handwriting, and all in French. Rolling his eyes, Blaine scanned the paper, looking for phrases that he could remember from school. It was no good – he'd never been great at French to begin with, and it had been years since he'd read any. He would have to, unfortunately, resort to Google's invaluable services.

Once back home, Blaine booted his laptop up, opening Skype in the background in the hope that Kurt would get to Paris before Blaine went to bed, although that rarely happened. Kurt had underlined _je t'aime avec tout mon cœur_ and _tu es la chose la plus précieuse dans ma vie_ and _veux-tu m'épouser_. Kurt knew him so well – he'd even highlighted the phrases he should translate first.

It took five minutes to just do the first phrase, although that was because Blaine was swooning over the fact that it said _I love you with all my heart _for three minutes. He wasn't that inept at French. He took a deep, bracing breath and moved onto the second underlined phrase, which turned out to be _you're the most precious thing in my life_. He had no idea where Kurt was going with this, but it was honestly one of the sweetest things that Kurt had ever done. A secret letter in French? How adorable could you get.

But Blaine's breath caught in his throat as he looked up the verb épouser.

That one meant 'to marry'.

* * *

Kurt hated Orange so much. It was a rubbish Internet provider, and he was switching over to Darty as soon as he possibly could. Of all weeks to break down, when he had written Blaine a life-changing letter, they had to choose this one. He was sick of hearing "Désolé, monsieur", which was apparently all the people at Orange knew how to say. He was sick of yelling down the phone in French. All he wanted right now was to quit this stupid musical, get the first flight back to New York and snuggle into Blaine's arms and their comfy bed.

Oh, _shit, _Blaine.

Why didn't he just ask Blaine face to face? Blaine would've preferred that. This was such a bad idea. Blaine was going to think he was an idiot. When he got his Internet connection back, Kurt knew that he was going to see a 'no'. It was such a cowardly way to propose.

It was such a _stupid _way to propose. What had he done?

The phone ringing stirred Kurt from his thoughts. He answered and listened to the woman at the other end babbled in French for a minute, from which he gleaned that the Internet should be fixed.

"Merci," he managed to get in before hanging up on her mid-sentence. It was rude, and would've gotten him a disapproving look from Blaine, if he was here. But Blaine wasn't here, so it was fine. It made Kurt feel better, after everything.

He closed his eyes, trying to gather his strength. He was not ready to go onto Skype and see that fateful word, telling him that he didn't have a home anymore – the deed for the house was in Blaine's name. Legally, Blaine had every right to the apartment.

After staring at his desktop for ten minutes, Kurt told himself to stop being such a wimp and face up to the consequences of his actions. Skype whirred for a minute, before the too jolly start-up music played and the home page opened. There was a little gray one next to Blaine's name, and, reluctantly, Kurt clicked on it.

He stared at the screen, at the single word on it, for a minute, and he saw the monitor become blurry before he actually realized that he was crying.

_Oui_.

**Original prompt: What if Blaine is at Kurt's house and Blaine notices Kurt is writing something in a notebook, Blaine asks what and Kurt reads it aloud, but it is in French, so Kurt tears out the paper and hands it to Blaine. It translates into Blaine, I love you too much for my own good, now you are probably just using your French textbook for this, to make it quicker use Google Translate, but back to the point. They say French is the language of love, so I'll say it in French. Blaine Anderson, will you marry me? **

**As you can see, I did edit. Hope you enjoyed, and leave a review if you did. **

**Imogen xx**


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